


My Heart is Made of Ink

by Casey_Wolfe



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nothing happens while Newt's underage, Pre-Canon, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tumblr: fantasticbeastsprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13164663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Wolfe/pseuds/Casey_Wolfe
Summary: At seventeen, Percival put ink to his skin for the first time.  It was just as simple as his soulmate’s message, but it was a promise - a heart.





	My Heart is Made of Ink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliaaaaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/gifts), [vaderina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/gifts).



> Apparently, I’m finally popping my Gramander cherry! For Alia, who messaged me this [Soulmate AU prompt idea](https://fantasticbeastsprompts.tumblr.com/post/168970737244/soulmates-au-where-words-written-on-your-skin) and flailed about it, lol. So, I kinda did the thing?

You weren’t  _supposed_ to communicate with your soulmate by writing to them.  It was considered distasteful and boorish.  A pure-blood like Percival Graves knew that.  Still, that didn’t stop him from thinking about it on numerous occasions when the marks started to appear on  _him_ well after puberty - his soulmate must have been a bit younger than him, only hitting puberty themselves.

It wasn’t that Percival considered the words to be some breach of  _unwritten code_.  He could care less about all the pure-blood bluster.  No, it was because what was appearing was downright  _offensive_.  At first, Percival was shocked, thinking that his soulmate was insulting  _him_ , but it soon became apparent that these words were being written onhis soulmate by others, which only served to anger Percival more.

One evening, Percival felt a familiar tingle that signaled the appearance of more writing on his body, this time on the underside of his left arm.  That was new.  There, in shaky lettering, was one simple word:  _Sorry_.  It was his soulmate - it had to be - apologizing for the awful words that Percival had had to endure on his body.  It broke Percival’s heart, because no doubt his soulmate was suffering much more than he.

At seventeen, Percival put ink to his skin for the first time.  It was just as simple as his soulmate’s message, but it was a promise - a heart.

* * *

The ugly messages didn’t get any better, but every once in a blue moon, Percival felt a tingle on his left arm.  He was starting to think of it as  _their place_.  It was usually only a couple words, but it was nice.  Once or twice, after Percival noticed a particularly nasty word appear,  _he_ had been the one to write first.

His soulmate had particularly liked the silly little poem by Shelley -  _The Cloud_ \- which Percival had always recalled for some reason.  It had earned Percival a heart in return and, a few days later, after the ink had faded, a stanza of Bronte:

 _Dark falls the fear of this despair_  
_On spirits born of happiness;_  
_But I was bred the mate of care,_  
_The foster-child of sore distress._

They started to talk more regularly after that.

* * *

Percival was a skilled auror, and he heard the talk that went on behind his back.  Usually the marks were kept hidden by his clothing, but occasionally...  There was only so much one could do when the word  _loser_ was plastered across their cheek.

Every time a new word appeared, all it did was stoke the fire Percival had been harnessing inside of him.  He wanted to lash out, to protect, but he had no one to focus his rage on.

He knew his soulmate must still be in school, based on their age and the random class notes that sometimes appeared in  _their spot,_ but they certainly hadn’t been at Ilvermorny - Percival had looked.

“Picquery, I need your help,” he said by way of greeting.

“Well,” she mused, a smirk curling at her lips, “I never thought I’d hear those words from you.”

“Shut it.”  His words had no actual bite.  “I need help on how to get a message to my soulmate so they can contact me.”

She raised both her brows.  Seraphina was his closest friend, and the only one who knew about the fact he actually communicated with his soulmate.

“This needs to stop,” Percival said, thrusting his arm forward.  His sleeves were rolled up, showing the newest insult scrawled across his right arm in all capitals:  _SCUMSUCKER._

Seraphina sniffed distastefully.  “ _That_ type of speech is going around again?  Really?”

Percival gave her a look - that wasn’t really the point - and she, thankfully, got back on track.

“So, they can’t tell you what school they go to, and you can’t tell them you work for MACUSA, because neither will go through.”  That was the way of soulmarks - proper names, among other details, would simply not be passed through; something about the ancient magic that no one seemed to understand.  “I don’t suppose just calling the schools to ask about an abused child is going to work either.”

 _Child_.  Now  _there_  was a sobering reality that his soulmate was still young - probably no more than sixteen, if Percival had been counting right all these years.

“I think I’ve got something that might go through,” she continued.  “Try this.”  She scrawled it down and slid it across the desk.

Percival decided it might just work, copying the message onto his left arm - with a little tweak - and waiting:  _Did I tell you I’m an auror?  Our shield has an eagle on it._ Hopefully his soulmate was smart enough to read between the lines, and know the shield for MACUSA.

 _That’s awesome!_ appeared rather quickly, followed by a more hesitant,  _Does that mean I can visit?_

_I’d like you to.  If you want._

Seraphina gave him a big grin, looking rather proud of herself.  She pat Percival’s arm before turning back to her paperwork.

* * *

It was Christmas break and he had managed to plan for his soulmate to meet him at the Woolworth Building in the auror offices.  They’d spend part of the holidays in New York and the other part with his soulmate’s family - which, if Percival gathered correctly from their roundabout way they had to talk, was in London.

Percival was at his desk, reading over the same lines again and again, trying to stop himself from glancing at the clock.  He knew his soulmate was due to arrive soon.

Then he felt it, that tingle on his arm.  When he looked down - his sleeves having been rolled up hours ago in a huff of anxiety - he saw a single heart.  His head darted up, finding a young man standing in the door of the auror unit, looking around.  He had a shock of red hair and freckles, his eyes going wide when he met Percival’s gaze.

“Can I help you, sweetie?” one of the nearby aurors asked him, the boy jumping a little.  He turned as red as his hair, starting to mutter as he ducked his head.

“He’s here to see me, Weiss,” Percival called as he stood, gesturing for his soulmate to come in.   _Soulmate_.  That sent a chill down his spine, warmth settling in his belly.

Skirting by Weiss, the redhead walked past the other desks.  Eyes darting over everything and everyone but never landing on anything too long.  He walked carefully, lightly, like a prey animal in a room full of predators.  His eyes stayed downcast until he stopped at Percival, where they managed to trail upward and meet Percival’s gaze.

“Percival Graves,” he introduced, offering his hand.

There was a pause, where his soulmate just stared back with bright hazel eyes, then he smiled softly and took Percival’s hand.  “Newton Scamander.  Uh, Newt,” he corrected.

“Newt,” Percival repeated, his own smile growing.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Admittedly, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but Newt was nearly full grown.  He was as tall as Percival and lean - he’d likely fill out in the next few years, pack some more muscle on.  A few unruly curls fell into Newt’s eyes and Percival reached up without thought to brush them aside, already finding it endearing.

Newt froze at the gesture, looking entirely surprised.

“Well, Newt, I’m afraid I’m supposed to finish off this bit of paperwork before I’m allowed to leave for the holiday...”

“Oh, I can go-”

“You can stay here if you like,” Percival reassured.  “It shouldn’t take long.  Then I’m all yours.”  He made sure to punctuate it with a smile, enjoying Newt’s returned smile, colored by a blush.

The paperwork took a bit longer than usual, since Percival kept getting distracted by sneaking glances at Newt.  Seraphina had wheeled her chair over to keep Newt entertained - and embarrass Percival by telling stories about when they were growing up, and even some more recent shenanigans.  Nothing compared to the soft expression on Newt’s face though when he looked down at his arm and noticed that a second inked heart had appeared next to the one he had drawn for Percival earlier.

* * *

 _I might be in trouble._ Percival felt his heart stop when he saw those words appear on his arm.  He grabbed Seraphina’s shoulder, nearly making her spill her coffee in the process and having to endure her verbal onslaught - at least until he showed her his arm.

Frantic scribbling had confirmed Newt wasn’t in mortal danger, but the source of the original message wasn’t much better.

“Expelled?” Seraphina asked in disbelief.

“They’re threatening it,” Percival confirmed, already grabbing his coat.  He was going to Scotland, apparently.

“What could  _Newt_ have possibly done?”  A fair question.  Seraphina had gotten to know Newt pretty well while he was there for Christmas.

While Newt was a bit eccentric, he was anything but a bad kid.  He was kind to a fault, and an exemplary student.  The only thing Percival could think was that perhaps Newt had  _finally_ stood up to those that had bullied him all these years, and  _that_ would  _not_ be tolerated.  In fact, once this was over, Percival would be having words with the Headmaster about that as well.

Percival got emergency leave, grabbed a portkey to Hogsmeade, and stormed into Hogwarts like a storm.  He was met by Albus Dumbledore - Percival’s hackles lowering slightly as he recognized the name of one of Newt’s beloved teachers - who had a wry grin when he said, “Mr. Scamander mentioned you might be joining us.”

It was clear to Percival that Newt was being blamed for this Leta Lestrange.  It was also clear to Percival that a lot of the abuse Newt had taken over the years was likely due to his association with her.  He knew the Lestrange name, knew their reputation.  Looking at his heartbroken soulmate when the Headmaster refused to listen to Dumbledore, to Newt’s parents, to Newt himself, Percival had no issue glaring at Leta and her father when the sentence of expulsion was handed down.

“Never,” Percival warned coldly, “come near Newt and the Scamander’s again.”

Theseus would have been a lot less nice about it.  As it was, when he heard about the incident after the fact from his parents - and Percival - he went on an hour-long rant about the Headmaster, the Lestrange’s, and anything else he felt the need to include.  Then he’d thanked Percival for being there, and given him a “good show” for what he’d said to Mr. Lestrange.  Theseus was an auror himself, and no fool either.

Newt was a mess, and near inconsolable, for the next week.  Percival and Theseus did their best to keep his spirits up.  Percival  _did_ have to get back to work though, and he was pleasantly surprised when Newt asked to go with him.  His parents allowed him a  _visit_ only - Newt was still underage, after all.

Newt managed to come back around to himself after some time, deciding he could continue his studies just fine on his own.  “I can still be a magizoologist,” he said determinedly one day, sitting in Percival’s small kitchen.

“I don’t doubt it, darling.”  Percival smiled at the blush, pressing a kiss to Newt’s cheek.

* * *

Newt’s big break came sooner than they thought - sooner than Percival would have liked - a year and a half later.  War was upon them, Percival and Theseus fighting on the front lines.  Sometimes they were together, but often times their missions took them far away from each other, and they worried like only brothers could for each other’s safety.

Newt, he ended up working with  _dragons_.

Percival was tired when they walked into the allied camp, covered in who knew how many layers of dirt, and he was fairly certain most of the blood on his gear  _wasn’t_ his.  He barely noticed the tingling on his arm.  At first, he just itched at it, thinking it was the dried mud, only to find ink there.

He smiled.  Then he hiccuped as he started to cry.  He brushed at the tears fiercely, almost angry at himself for blubbering over some little heart on his arm.  But,  _damn_ , how long had it been since there had been something  _normal_ in his life, instead of all this death?

“Percy?  Are you alright?  You’re not hurt are you?”

Percival’s head snapped up at the familiar voice, finding a redhead standing before him, looking him over in concern.  “Newt!”  Percival flung his arms around Newt, pulling him into a crushing embrace.

Seeming to realize what had caused Percival’s distress, Newt said, “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Percival shook his head.  He pulled away just enough to take hold of Newt’s face, just staring at him.  “Merlin, it’s good to see you.”

Newt smiled.  “I’m glad to see you’re safe, luv.”

Percival pulled him back in then, pressing their lips together.  It was a chaste kiss, promising.  There would be time for more once Percival cleaned up and had some proper rest.

“Come on,” Newt said, stealing another kiss - lingering just a bit longer, “let me introduce you to the dragons.”

Percival let out a barking laugh, shaking his head.  He allowed Newt to pull him along, already rattling on about this or that.  Life with Newt would certainly never be boring, that was for certain.

Percival looked down again at the heart on his arm, catching a glimpse of the one on Newt’s.  It was the promise that Percival had made many years ago to Newt, one that wouldn’t fade with the ink, but would stay forever etched in his heart.

/End

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://thedenofcaseywolfe.tumblr.com/).


End file.
